


Love Is Like That

by riventhorn



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Asexual Character, Asexual!kagami, Fluff, M/M, Slice of Life, a tiny bit of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-04-19 22:29:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14247087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riventhorn/pseuds/riventhorn
Summary: It's almost time for Kuroko and Kagami to graduate from Seirin, and Kuroko is worried Kagami might disappear from his life forever.





	Love Is Like That

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this in my wip folder for ages and finally finished it. It's mostly little vignettes about their relationship, but I'm extremely attached to the idea of Kagami being asexual and wanted to write something featuring that.

Nigou sounds like a small steam engine as he pants, too hot even in the shade of a tree. Beyond him, heat rolls off the basketball court, making the ground waver in Kuroko’s vision. It’s too warm to play. Kagami-kun grudgingly admitted this after fifteen minutes of shooting hoops. Now he sprawls listlessly next to Kuroko, eyes closed. Soon he will complain about being hungry, and they will have to go find something to eat, but for now he is still and quiet.

Kuroko’s fingers twitch, and he digs them into the grass. He has been thinking of reaching out and touching Kagami-kun’s hair. Kuroko is just the right height for Kagami to plant his own fingers in Kuroko’s hair, which he does frequently, gripping with varying degrees of intensity. But Kuroko has never gotten to do this to Kagami-kun. It does not seem fair. 

But he is not quite sure what Kagami will do if he proceeds on this course. He is not entirely sure what he _wants_ Kagami to do. 

No, that is not true. He wants Kagami-kun to open his eyes and smile up at him. One of the wide, unguarded smiles that crinkle his eyes shut. 

So far, the only thing to elicit such smiles from Kagami has been basketball. Kuroko takes it as a hopeful sign that they have always been playing together at such moments. 

Kagami stirs, stretching and rubbing a hand over his stomach. Nigou jumps to his feet. Kuroko flattens his palm in the grass as his chance slips away, his questions unanswered.

*

Kuroko observes people. Cultivating his skills on the court has made him very attentive to the nuances of people’s expressions. Kagami-kun is not difficult to read in most respects. It is obvious when he is angry, happy, bored, or nervous. But underneath those surface emotions is an entire realm of feeling that Kuroko can only guess at. 

Like now, when they're sitting in Maji Burger, homework spread across the table. Kagami is tapping his pencil against his lips, staring at the book, but his eyes are far away. What is he thinking about? What would he say if Kuroko asked? 

Suddenly Kagami looks at him, eyes narrowing. Kuroko thinks that he has been caught out, that Kagami will demand to know why he was staring. 

But Kagami says, "You're not having a vanilla shake." 

Kuroko blinks. "I had a burger."

"You can have a shake too." Kagami stands up and starts gathering their books. "Come on. Let's go to my place, and I'll make you one."

"I can get one here, Kagami-kun."

"I can make a better one. Not from a mix or out of a machine." 

So Kuroko trails along to Kagami's apartment. He stands in the kitchen, watching as Kagami takes out milk, sugar, and ice cream. For some reason, he puts a bowl _into_ the refrigerator as well. Kagami hums as he puts the ingredients in the blender, not bothering with measurements, his movements sure and precise. The bowl in the fridge turns out to be for making whipped cream, and when the shake is assembled in a tall glass, topped with cream, Kagami even has a long straw, striped pink and white, to go with it.

He gives the glass to Kuroko and then crosses his arms. “Now that’s a proper milkshake,” he says. 

Kuroko takes a sip. It’s very good. 

“It’s very good, Kagami-kun. Thank you.”

Kagami huffs and starts washing the dishes, whistling this time. Kuroko sips the shake slowly, to make it last. 

He doesn’t think that Kagami planned this. Kagami-kun doesn’t plan things; he’s too impulsive. But when he was at the store, last week, last month, he must have seen the straws and the ice cream and thought of Kuroko and milkshakes. He’d bought them because he thought they would be good to have on hand, just in case. 

“You can make me milkshakes from now on, Kagami-kun,” Kuroko tells him, and Kagami laughs.

*

It’s their third and last year at Seirin. Scouts from various universities come to their practices and games, eager to recruit Kagami. Some of them want to recruit Furihata too, who has become quite a good player over the last two years. 

Kuroko has known for a long time that he won’t be able to play basketball competitively in college. He is too small and even though his skills have gotten better, he is nowhere near Kagami’s level. 

It hurts, a little, but he also knows that he will still be able to play street ball with Kagami, and Aomine, and Kise, and the others. Although it will get harder, when they have all moved further away, moving on with their lives. It will be harder to get everyone together for a game.

But basketball is only part of it, even though he can never quite separate Kagami-kun and basketball in his mind or in reality. Kagami is more than basketball, though. So much more.

They make it to the finals in the Inter-High, but lose to Shutoku in the last round. When the game is over, and they have congratulated the other players—Takao openly gleeful and Midorima trying to hide his own happiness and failing spectacularly—Kuroko goes to where Kagami is standing under the hoop, wiping the sweat off his face with a towel. 

“It has been an honor playing with you, Kagami-kun,” Kuroko says and holds out his hand. 

Kagami blinks, confused. He has not realized it then—that this is the last official game they will play with each other, the last time they will fight together in a game at this level. 

Comprehension, when it comes, stills Kagami’s expression, and his gaze is drawn inward. As usual, Kuroko cannot tell what he is thinking in these moments. He begins to feel silly with his hand still sticking out, and he lets it drop. 

But then Kagami is pulling him into a tight hug, bending over him, one hand gripping Kuroko’s hair. “Dumbass,” Kagami says, and Kuroko can hear the open, fond affection in his voice. 

Kagami stinks of sweat and exertion, but Kuroko would like to stay here, held close. Kagami lets him go too quickly, and then the others are there, trying to hide their disappointment behind jokes and promises from the first- and second-years that next year, next year they will win. 

Next year, Kuroko thinks, and feels an ache, deep in his chest. 

*

Kagami has never had a girlfriend or a boyfriend since Kuroko has known him. He has never heard Kagami voice any desire for either. Kagami has never made any comments about cute girls or boys. When Aomine and Kise each get girlfriends in their third year and brag a bit about the more salacious details of their relationships, Kagami listens without comment. 

Kuroko dates a girl in their class briefly during his second year, but they break up soon after Christmas. 

She isn’t Kagami-kun, after all.

Kuroko does not know how to explain to Kagami-kun that he loves him. He cannot ask him on a date because they already do so many things together. If he said, “Kagami-kun, would you like to go out for lunch?” or “Kagami-kun, would you like to see a movie?”, Kagami will not find it remarkable or think that Kuroko means anything by it. 

And if he took Kagami’s hand in his—if he leaned against Kagami’s shoulder when they are sitting on the couch watching TV—he doesn’t know what would happen because he is too afraid to try. 

If he only knew if Kagami likes boys, that he wouldn’t be upset or disgusted, but he doesn’t know. Kagami gives him no sign, no clue. All of Kuroko’s vaunted observational skills are useless when it comes to this. 

As their third year winds down, as January fades into February, Kuroko becomes more and more desperate. Because they will graduate soon, and Kagami will leave. There has even been talk of Kagami returning to America to play at a university there. 

Kagami sits in a desk in the last row in their homeroom because he’s so tall and no one would be able to see over him. Kuroko sits in front of him, and Kagami is always accidentally kicking his chair because his legs are too long, crammed uncomfortably under the desktop. Kagami’s muttered grunts of apology have become a familiar soundtrack to the school day, but Kuroko never really minds the bumps, the little reminders that Kagami-kun is nearby.

Today he is thinking about the previous summer, when the team went to practice by the ocean, straining to run through the soft sand. Kuroko had been overheated and exhausted when the coach finally allowed them to stop. Kagami, breathing heavily too, looked at him and then before Kuroko could do or say anything, swooped in and grabbed Kuroko around the waist, hefting him over his shoulder. 

Ignoring Kuroko’s protests and fist jabs in his back, Kagami charged toward the water. Kuroko braced himself, expecting to be tossed into the surf, plummeting underwater. Kagami hit the edge of the beach, plunged into the waves, waded out a little and then—

Kuroko blinked in surprise as Kagami gently lowered him into the water, only releasing him when Kuroko had put out his arms, letting him float. Their t-shirts ballooned around them, the water cool and pleasant against hot and sweaty skin, their shoes water-logged and heavy. 

“You looked like you were about to faint from the heat,” Kagami explained.

“Oh,” Kuroko said, and then he smiled, and Kagami watched him intently for a moment before smiling too, satisfied that he had made Kuroko happy.

It is too chilly now to go to the beach, and the day feels a hundred years ago—the heat, Kagami’s easy strength, his smile. 

“I decided to go to Tokai,” Fukuda-kun is saying two rows over as class ends. “Hey, Kagami, have you picked a university yet?”

Kuroko freezes, heart beating fast. He doesn’t turn around, but he’s listening so intently that he can hear every shift as Kagami moves to look at Fukuda, the click as he puts down his pencil.

“Not yet,” Kagami says at last, and the world rushes forward again, Kuroko’s hand shaking as he puts away his notebook. 

*

Kuroko’s mother adores Kagami-kun. She rightly attributes Kagami’s arrival to the lifting of the depression that had clung to Kuroko since Teiko. Whenever Kagami comes over to Kuroko’s house, she fusses over him and exclaims at how big his shoes look next to Kuroko’s in the _genkan_. Kagami fidgets and blushes while Kuroko’s mother insists he stay for dinner. 

The smell of frying batter drifts into Kuroko’s room where he and Kagami are sitting. Well, Kuroko is sitting, leaning against his bed and reading a book while Kagami sprawls on the floor, fiddling with his phone. 

Kuroko can’t quite remember when they started doing this—spending time together that doesn’t involve basketball. He only knows that he likes it. 

“Hey,” Kagami says suddenly. He drops his phone onto his chest and tilts his head back so he can see Kuroko. “Why haven’t you picked a university yet?”

It’s the moment Kuroko has been dreading. “Why haven’t you?” he says, mouth dry.

“Don’t avoid the question,” Kagami says, scowling. He rolls over onto his elbows and meets Kuroko’s eyes. 

“I—” Kuroko pauses and carefully lays down his book. He just has to say it. If only he knew more of what Kagami was feeling. But he can only trust in the fact that Kagami has never hurt him—never abandoned him. 

His voice still trembles as he says, “I was waiting for you to choose.”

Kagami’s angry scowl fades into a confused one. “Why?”

Kuroko stares at him a moment, wishing Kagami would put two and two together, and then sighs. He’s forgotten how oblivious Kagami-kun can be when it comes to these matters. “Because I want to go where you go,” he admits. 

“Me? But you’re—you’re—”

“Yes, Kagami-kun?”

“You’re smart and talented!” Kagami bursts out, sitting up and crossing his legs, his movements sharp and frustrated. “You could go anywhere, Kuroko. Besides, I’m going to pick a school close to wherever you end up.”

Kuroko replays that last bit, wondering if he’s imagining what he wants to hear. “Kagami-kun,” he says slowly, “you know that you’re one of the best high school basketball players in Japan, right? You can play for the best teams. You could go back to America and play there.”

“But…” Kagami gestures between them, his cheeks turning a bit red. “We’re….” He falls silent and suddenly looks miserable, his shoulders slumping.

Kuroko studies him a moment and then gets onto his knees, walking on them over to Kagami. Like this, with Kagami still sitting, he’s the taller one. Kagami gets stiff and tense as he approaches, but when Kuroko puts a hand in his hair—finally, finally getting to feel it, to wind his fingers in it like Kagami does to him—Kagami lets out a shuddering breath and presses his face against Kuroko’s chest. 

“We’re not very good at communicating, are we?” Kuroko says, and Kagami huffs a laugh and wraps his arms around him. 

*

In the end, they pick the sensible option. Kagami chooses an American university with an excellent basketball team, and Kuroko chooses a university in Tokyo with an excellent academic reputation. 

“We’ll visit each other often,” Kagami says, not quite a question, but Kuroko nods anyway. 

“And I’ll watch your games,” he adds, and Kagami blushes a little. 

Indeed, Kagami seems less concerned that living so far apart will affect their feelings for each other and more concerned that Kuroko will be incapable of looking after himself. Kuroko isn’t sure whether to feel insulted or touched.

“You can’t cook,” Kagami says, “and you attract trouble. Promise me that you won’t go challenging any guys to street ball games, okay?”

Kuroko ignores this, focusing on the book he’s reading.

“Kuroko,” Kagami presses, giving his foot a kick. “Tell me you’ll eat enough. You can’t survive on vanilla milkshakes alone.”

“Kagami-kun,” Kuroko says, with a measure of dignity, “I am an _adult_.”

Kagami snorts. 

It’s sweet, though, and very like Kagami to worry like this. Kuroko decides it deserves a kiss. They haven’t kissed yet, and Kuroko is not quite sure Kagami even considers them boyfriends, but he gathers his courage and leans over, and Kagami’s eyes widen. 

Kagami doesn’t kiss back, and he goes rigid under Kuroko’s hands. When Kuroko pulls away, Kagami’s mouth has flattened, and his eyes are sad.

Dismay chokes Kuroko. Has he completely misread Kagami? Did he just ruin things? 

But before he can say anything, Kagami sighs and mutters, “You want that, don’t you? Of course you do. Of course.”

“Want what, Kagami-kun?” Kuroko asks.

Kagami shrugs. “Kissing,” he mumbles. “Sex.”

Kuroko gets uncomfortably hot. He doesn’t know what to say.

“Everyone does,” Kagami continues, and now he sounds frustrated. 

Kuroko thinks a moment. He thinks about how Kagami has never said anything about girls or boys, one way or the other. “Do _you_ want those things, Kagami-kun?” he asks.

Kagami shakes his head. “It’s not just you,” he adds. “There’s never been anyone I wanted like that.”

Kuroko settles back next to him. Cautiously, he leans against Kagami’s side. “Is this all right?”

“Yeah.” Kagami puts an arm around him. “Sorry. I… I can try.”

“You don’t have to, Kagami-kun,” Kuroko says. 

“Okay.” Kagami takes a deep breath, and some of the tension leaves him. 

When Kuroko goes with him to the airport on the day Kagami leaves for America, Kagami catches him in a hug and whispers, “I love you,” in his ear. And then he’s turning, grinning and waving at their other friends, and Kuroko can’t quite breathe. 

“You have it so fucking bad for him, don’t you?” Aomine-kun says, and Kuroko kicks his ankle but can’t deny it. 

*

When Kuroko goes to visit Kagami at Christmas, Kagami is waiting for him at the airport. He has brought along a parka and boots in Kuroko’s size because it’s snowing in Syracuse. Kuroko informs Kagami that he checked out New York’s weather ahead of time and brought his own coat. Kagami continues to look doubtful and triumphantly brings out a knit hat when Kuroko admits he forgot that part. 

Kagami’s roommate is gone for the holidays, and so they try sleeping together in the same bed for the first time. Kagami has said he is all right with it as long as they don’t have to be naked. That night, Kuroko discovers that Kagami sprawls across the entire bed when he sleeps, which means he sprawls over Kuroko too. Kuroko finally manages to heave Kagami off him and escapes to the sofa. 

In the morning, Kagami is remorseful and makes him waffles. They sit in bed together to eat them, and Kagami’s eyes crinkle as he laughs at Kuroko’s bed-head. 

It’s snowing outside, but warm indoors. When they finish eating, and Kuroko has licked all the syrup off his fork, Kagami tugs him over and settles him in between his thighs. Kuroko leans against Kagami’s broad chest, and Kagami put his arms around him and rests his cheek in Kuroko’s hair. 

They’ll have separate beds for sleeping, Kuroko thinks, but then they can cuddle like this. “Are you making pancakes tomorrow?” he asks, and Kagami rolls his eyes.

“I better. You’re getting thin. Are you eating anything besides ramen?”

“Yes,” Kuroko says, but he lets Kagami fuss over him. 

It stops snowing later that day, and the next afternoon the sun emerges. They go to a nearby park, and Kagami enlists the help of several of his friends in shoveling one of the basketball courts clear. Then they play a game, and Kagami still catches Kuroko’s passes and lets him shoot and beams proudly at the surprise of his friends at how Kuroko can evade their notice and slip past their guard. 

“He’s my partner,” Kagami tells them, and Kuroko hears all the meanings wrapped up in that word. 

After the game, he and Kagami remain awhile, aimlessly dribbling and shooting. Kuroko can tell how much better Kagami has gotten in the few months they’ve been apart. 

When the sun starts setting, they go to a coffee shop, ducking inside, their faces tingling in the warmer air. Kagami buys him a hot chocolate, and they sit in a booth. Kagami asks him about his classes and then keeps asking questions because Kuroko isn’t very good at volunteering information. He needs Kagami’s teasing but genuine interest to draw out his words. 

Kagami’s eyes keep wandering to something over Kuroko’s shoulder, though, and finally Kuroko turns to look. Another couple is sitting in the booth behind them. They’re side by side, watching something together on a laptop. The man keeps leaning over to kiss the woman, who smiles, even as she pretends to push him away so she can see the screen.

Kuroko turns back to Kagami, who meets his eyes for a second, his expression questioning, vulnerable, before looking out the window.

Kuroko reaches across the table and squeezes Kagami’s hand. 

“I love you, Kagami-kun,” he tells him.

*

When Kuroko is back in Japan, Kagami sometimes calls him the night before a big game. He’s nervous, excited, and talks endlessly about his opponents, about their stats and how awesome it will be to play them and beat them. 

After he hangs up, Kuroko receives a text. 

_I wish you were on the court with me._

“So do I,” Kuroko whispers, touching the screen.

*

It’s been a year since they graduated high school, and Kuroko remembers how worried he had been that he was going to lose Kagami, how he’d thought that he couldn’t understand how Kagami felt about him.

Now, looking back, he realizes that Kagami’s feelings had always been there, open and unguarded. Kagami had always expressed his respect, his concern, and his love for Kuroko. It had been Kuroko who hadn’t recognized them for what they were, who had expected the kisses, the declarations of desire, the heated looks that he saw in Kise and Aomine’s relationships. 

But now he knows that even if Kagami doesn’t demonstrate his love in that way, it’s no less real or deep. 

He sends Kagami a photo of a vanilla shake from Maji Burger and types _dinner_.

Then he waits, knowing in a few minutes his phone will buzz and Kagami will send him outraged texts about _at least getting a burger too for God’s sake._

Kuroko will type back, _I was only kidding, Kagami-kun._ He can imagine the sound of Kagami’s irritated huff and his smile. And then he will type, _I love you, Kagami-kun_ and in less than a minute, he will receive Kagami’s reply—will always receive Kagami’s reply— _I love you too_.


End file.
